Death Shall Come

  ‘What makes you think it’s worth saving?’ said Nicholas. ‘And don’t say you did any of this for the family. You did it for the collection.’

  Penny took it on herself to break up what was threatening to become an uncomfortable situation. She strode over to a far corner and pointedly studied an old sarcophagus standing upright on its own. The artwork and decoration were nothing special and the whole affair was rather shabby, but it had a certain presence.

  ‘Where did this come from? It looks fascinating!’

  It was a fairly obvious ploy, but everyone gratefully seized the chance to talk about something else. We all drifted over to join her. Apart from Bernard, who wouldn’t budge from his chair, and Susan, who wouldn’t leave him.

  ‘Grandfather acquired this back in the fifties,’ Chloe said brightly. ‘There’s only a dummy inside, the real mummy was destroyed long ago. Back in Victorian times there was a fad for grinding up mummies and using the powder to make patent medicines. It was all the rage.’

  Penny looked shocked. ‘They ground up bodies?’

  ‘And then snorted them,’ said Nicholas. ‘That’s your real Victorian values, right there. Destroying another country’s culture just so you could shove it up your nose. Nothing changes …’

  ‘Fashion can be a cruel mistress,’ Caroline said vaguely.

  ‘Empty sarcophagi have always been easy to find,’ said George. ‘I’m the first private collector in ages to have his own mummy.’

  ‘And is there a curse attached to your mummy?’ Penny asked, just a bit desperately.

  ‘Of course!’ said George. ‘Wouldn’t be a proper mummy without one. How did it go, Professor?’

  ‘Death shall come to any who dares remove Cleopatra from her chosen resting place,’ said Rose.

  ‘Well, that doesn’t sound at all ominous,’ I said. ‘Have there been any deaths attached to this mummy?’

  Everyone looked at George, but he had nothing to say.

  ‘There are stories …’ said Stuart. ‘But then there always are stories.’

  ‘Particularly in that part of the world,’ said Rose.

  ‘Who found Cleopatra’s tomb?’ I said. ‘I’m assuming it wasn’t any officially sanctioned archaeological team. Are we talking grave-robbers?’

  ‘Oh, tell them the damned story, Rose!’ snapped George, and the professor nodded quickly.

  ‘It is a fascinating account. Though I’ve been having trouble confirming some of the details. So much depends on who you talk to. It seems a group of local people all had the same dream, directing them to a particular location in the Valley of the Sorcerers. An area usually avoided because it was … unlucky, unhealthy. All the usual superstitions. They all ended up at the same spot, where they felt compelled to dig. And soon enough they uncovered the entrance to a tomb.

  ‘That was as far as they were prepared to go in that place. They returned home and called for help. From people with practical knowledge of such things. Not scholars, of course, more … local businessmen. They excavated the tomb, and discovered a mummy with a very famous name. These people knew other people, who arranged for a quick sale and smuggled the mummy out of the country. Speed was essential, partly because it had to be done before the authorities found out … and partly because they’d started having bad dreams too. Now this is where it gets interesting. Within a week everyone involved in the discovery of the tomb was dead. I suppose it’s always possible the smugglers killed them to ensure their silence. Such behaviour is not unknown with such people.’

  ‘How did these people die?’ I asked.

  ‘Strangely,’ said Rose. ‘There were no wounds, no signs of violence, on any of the bodies. No signs of disease. They all just … died.’

  Something in the matter of fact way he said that sent a chill down my spine. And given the way everyone else reacted, I wasn’t the only one. George stirred uncomfortably.

  ‘I don’t like this talk of killing. I want to make it very clear that I don’t deal with criminals. Just people with the right connections, to bypass awkward Government restrictions and get things done. It’s not like I’ve been dealing with the Mafia!’

  ‘Just as well,’ said Nicholas. ‘You might end up with a jackal’s head in your bed.’

  He laughed. No one else did. Caroline took his glass away from him.

  ‘I think you’ve had enough for now, dear.’

  Nicholas started to argue, and then stopped as Caroline looked at him. Which was interesting.

  ‘I think it’s time we got a good look at what we all came here to see,’ I said.

  ‘Of course!’ said George. ‘The mummy! The first Cleopatra, unknown progenitor of a famous line.’

  ‘A long way from home,’ said Stuart. ‘Let’s hope she’s not feeling restless.’

  ‘She’s just an exhibit, dear,’ said Chloe. ‘And nothing happens to any part of this collection without father’s permission.’

  ‘Damn right!’ said George.

  And off we went, to see what there was to see.

  Apart from Bernard, who still refused to budge from his chair. And Susan, who wouldn’t hear of leaving her husband on his own. The rest of us, even Nicholas and Caroline, followed George through a series of dark and gloomy corridors. He kept up a stream of cheerful conversation, but it didn’t make the shadows seem any less threatening. I suppose he was used to them. Everywhere we went, exotic items and curios sprang to the eye, like prizes in some disturbing fairground attraction. George strode right past them, not even looking most of the time.

  Until finally we reached the room George had chosen as the setting for his special sarcophagus, with its precious contents. He took his own sweet time producing a key to unlock the door, milking the moment, and then insisted we stay out in the corridor while he went in first. To make sure everything was as it should be. We all shared amused looks at his need for drama. His mummy, his show, his way. George finally gestured grandly for the rest of us to enter. To my surprise, everyone hesitated. In the end I took the lead, with Penny quickly at my side, and we all filed in.

  The first thing I noticed was that the room was packed with surveillance cameras, swivelling suspiciously this way and that, little lights glowing like beady red eyes, covering the sarcophagus from every angle. The sarcophagus stood upright and alone in the middle of the room, artistically lit by several spotlights. There were no other artefacts, nothing to detract from the main attraction. It was all very dramatic, and impressive. The exterior of the sarcophagus was beaten gold, thickly encrusted with jewels, and the lid was a single magnificent piece of art depicting the woman within. The face was strikingly beautiful, even allowing for the usual stylization. I turned to Professor Rose.

  ‘Why is she alone? Why has Cleopatra been separated from her regal possessions? That’s not standard procedure.’

  ‘I’m working on them,’ said Rose. ‘There’s a lot they can tell us.’

  ‘Aren’t you afraid of triggering the curse?’ I said. ‘By angering Cleopatra?’

  ‘Oh, please,’ said Rose.

  The sarcophagus was barely five feet tall, but it still dominated the room with its presence. A simple box, older than Christianity. We all clustered around it, studying it carefully, but none of us wanted to get too close. The heavy scents that filled the house were much stronger here. Like breathing in the past.

  ‘What does she look like?’ Penny said finally. Her voice was hushed, as though we were in church. ‘The mummy, I mean.’

  Everyone turned to George, expecting him to describe her with all his usual enthusiasm. But he said nothing. I turned to Rose, and then to Stuart.

  ‘Has anyone actually seen this mummy?’ I said. ‘I mean actually opened the box and looked inside?’

  ‘Not yet,’ said Stuart.

  Marjorie looked incredulously at George. ‘You spent all that money on something you haven’t even seen?’

  ‘I’ve seen photographs,’ said George, just as sharply. ‘And I examined the paperw
ork very carefully to make sure everything was in order. The provenance is unimpeachable. I have dealt with these people before, and they’ve always proved entirely reliable. It’s just that opening the sarcophagus is … complicated.’

  ‘How?’ I said.

  ‘It’s locked,’ said Rose.

  We all looked at him.

  ‘Isn’t that … unusual?’ said Penny.

  ‘Very,’ said Stuart.

  ‘If you haven’t opened it, how can you be sure there really is a mummy in there?’ said Penny.

  Everyone was looking at George now. He scowled, and looked at Rose.

  ‘I don’t think the sarcophagus should be opened, just for a casual viewing,’ Rose said carefully. ‘Not until I’ve had a chance to finish my examination of the exterior.’

  ‘Oh, come on!’ said Nicholas. ‘We were brought here to view the mummy. You can’t fob us off with a closed box.’

  ‘Exactly!’ said Caroline. ‘Viewing the mummy is what this weekend is all about.’

  ‘I really can’t recommend …’

  ‘Shut up, Rose,’ said George. ‘My mummy, my show. Help me open the damned thing.’

  Rose reluctantly produced a notebook, and he and George spent some time consulting it before attacking a complicated locking mechanism concealed on one side of the sarcophagus, holding the lid firmly in place. I moved in for a closer look, ignoring irritated glances from the other two. It was a mixture of a combination lock and the kind of sliding panels you find in Chinese puzzle boxes. Not at all what you’d expect on a coffin. Which might mean the sarcophagus wasn’t what it was supposed to be, or …

  ‘They locked the mummy in?’ I said.

  ‘Were they afraid she might get out?’ said Penny.

  ‘Of course not,’ said George, not looking up from what he was doing.

  Rose looked back at Penny disapprovingly. ‘That sort of thing only happens in bad movies.’

  ‘Or really good ones,’ Penny said cheerfully.

  ‘Why fit a lock on a coffin?’ I said.

  ‘There was a legend,’ Rose said unhappily. ‘Old stories which resurfaced as a result of the unusual deaths …’

  ‘What kind of stories?’ I asked.

  ‘Supposedly the first Cleopatra possessed an item of great power,’ Rose said reluctantly. ‘Something that made her amazingly strong and extremely long-lived.’

  ‘She still died,’ said Stuart.

  ‘Is that why they locked her inside her coffin?’ said Penny. ‘Because they weren’t completely convinced she was dead and didn’t feel like taking any chances?’

  ‘There are many stories about the first Cleopatra,’ said Rose.

  I gave him a hard look. ‘How can that be, when no one had heard of her before her tomb was discovered?’

  ‘There were records inside the tomb,’ said Rose. ‘And old stories passed down from generation to generation among the locals. Never discussed with outsiders, because no one liked to talk about them … Terrible warnings not to look for her tomb. And, of course, we know how that turned out.’

  I was intrigued, but before I could press Rose any further George made a loud satisfied sound as the lock finally yielded to his efforts. He took hold of the heavy lid with both hands and struggled to move it to one side. Even with all his strength, he had a hard time shifting it. I moved in to help, and between us we slid it to one side, leaning it against the side of the sarcophagus. I was careful not to use my full strength in front of Stuart, just in case he had his Colonel’s hat on. But he didn’t seem to notice. Like everyone else, his attention was fixed on the contents of the coffin.

  The mummy was there, all right. But she didn’t look anything like the image on the lid. It wasn’t the typical body bag and mask I’d been expecting. The body was complete, with separately wrapped torso, arms and legs. But the mummy was a shrivelled, withered thing, standing slumped against one side of the coffin. The bandages were a dirty brown, so thickly permeated with spices and preservative chemicals that I almost choked on the smell. The face was only partly wrapped, revealing a hideous distorted death mask. The eye sockets were empty, the nose was gone, and the mouth had drawn back from the teeth in an endless snarl.

  ‘It’s horrible!’ said Penny.

  ‘Imagine how you’d look after two thousand years,’ said Rose.

  ‘This is what the embalming process did to people,’ I said. ‘The Ancient Egyptians never meant their mummies to rise again. The bodies were only preserved to help support the ka on its journey through the afterlife.’

  ‘That is a gross oversimplification of a very complicated belief system,’ said Professor Rose.

  ‘After two thousand years, everything we know or think we know about Ancient Egypt is never going to be more than guesswork,’ I said.

  ‘Educated guesswork,’ said the professor.

  We all looked at the mummy, and for a long time none of us said anything. Penny was right: it was seriously ugly. It was hard to think of anything so used up ever going for a little walk.

  ‘You spent a ton of our money on that?’ Marjorie said finally. ‘This nasty piece of … It doesn’t even look real! Put the lid back on, George. It smells.’

  ‘Hush,’ said George, still staring raptly at his prize. ‘She’s real. The very first Cleopatra. Show some respect! You’re looking at history in the flesh.’

  Rose turned abruptly to fix me with a challenging gaze. ‘Well, Mister Jones? Are you ready to provide us with your expert opinion? Mister Cardavan already has mine. Let us see how closely yours agrees.’

  He was jealous of his position with the family, and eager to undermine what credibility I had. Everyone looked at me expectantly. I smiled easily back at them, and nodded at the coffin’s contents.

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘That is quite definitely a mummy. Anything more will have to wait, pending careful research into the writings on the interior of the box. You did notice those, didn’t you, Professor? There will have to be chemical tests on the bandages, and X-rays to show what’s inside the mummy. And so on, and so on … You know all this, Professor. Only fools rush in where scholars fear to tread.’

  Penny applauded loudly, grinning broadly. Some of the family joined in, pleased that I’d avoided Rose’s trap. He just sniffed loudly, as though I’d only confirmed his worst suspicions. I annoyed him even further by not giving a damn. Rose saw that everyone was siding with me, turned his back on all of us, and went to stand by the door. George took hold of the sarcophagus lid, and I helped him ease it back in position again.

  ‘Isn’t she magnificent?’ he said quietly. ‘An ancient queen of legend, right here in my home.’

  ‘Is she everything you hoped?’ I said.

  ‘I’ve seen mummies,’ said George. ‘I knew what to expect.’ He turned away, to face his family. ‘Come and see what I’ve done with the rest of the collection! It’s all very different now from how it used to be. Time for the grand tour!’

  Most of us smiled indulgently, but Nicholas shook his head stubbornly.

  ‘We’ve seen it. Why would we want to see it again?’

  ‘Because I’ve made extensive changes in the presentation,’ said George, frowning heavily. ‘Something that had been neglected for far too long.’

  ‘Like I give a damn!’ said Nicholas.

  ‘We are going,’ said George. ‘You can always go back to the drawing room and remain with your grandparents, if you want.’

  Nicholas looked like he was ready to do just that, if only to defy his father and show his independence. But Caroline murmured sharply in Nicholas’s ear, and he nodded reluctantly. Caroline wasn’t prepared to miss out on anything. I had to wonder whether this whole inheritance issue might have started with her, rather than Nicholas. And so we moved off through the house again.

  George led the way, like a man at the head of his own parade, happily pointing out items of interest and lecturing loudly on things he didn’t understand nearly as well as he thought he did. Marjorie clung t
o his arm and did her best not to look bored. The house was a large old place, with all kinds of back corridors, hidden passageways, and rooms within rooms. Chloe and Stuart and Nicholas and Caroline just strolled along, taking it in their stride. I looked intently at everything, and Penny lapped it all up. The professor slouched along in the rear, thinking his own thoughts. The house’s lighting varied from place to place, but it never really improved and the shadows remained stubbornly impenetrable.

  ‘Would it kill you to get some proper lighting installed?’ Nicholas growled.

  ‘Too much light might fade some of the more delicate colourings,’ said George. ‘But mostly, I believe the proper atmosphere is important.’

  The whole of the first and second floors of Cardavan House were packed with ancient artefacts that had to have taken generations to accumulate. I asked George when his family first started collecting.

  ‘It all began with my grandfather, Douglas Cardavan,’ George said immediately. ‘This was in the 1920s. There was a lot of interest back then in all the amazing discoveries coming out of Egypt. It became quite the done thing for those with the time and money to pay a visit to Egypt to soak up the atmosphere and see it all for themselves. If only for the bragging rights when they went home. But Douglas was never the same again.

  ‘According to the family records he joined all kinds of expeditions, which were happy enough to take his money. He made several small but significant discoveries of his own. Could have had a perfectly respectable career … but it was never enough for him just to find things, he had to own them. Once it became clear he was smuggling artefacts out of the country in defiance of all the rules and regulations, no reputable archaeological team would have anything to do with him. But he didn’t care. It was all about the collection and what he could get away with.’

  We had now been treated to a tour of the whole of the second floor and reached the stairs leading up to the top floor. George came to a sudden halt.

  ‘The top floor is living quarters only,’ he said. ‘There has always been a tacit agreement that one floor should be kept entirely free from the collection. To prevent it from overwhelming the family.’ He dropped me a roguish wink. ‘The women folk decided that, of course. The rest of us just go along with it for the sake of peace and quiet.’